


Up And Down And Back Around Again

by whisperingwind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hair Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingwind/pseuds/whisperingwind
Summary: Harry starts to lose his hair and he isn't worried. That is, until he has no choice but to be.Title from "Blink" by FRANKIE





	

He sits in the styling chair, sorting through more than half a dozen internet tabs in the hopes of finding the correct caption to post along with his newest Instagram update, when Lou abruptly stops brushing through his chestnut brown curls.

“ _ Harry _ .” she gasps, hairbrush frozen mid-air. Her tone comes across rather peculiarly as she isn't one to often speak with much emotion. Although, appearing to sound monotonous is not necessarily her fault, it's simply a characteristic she's been unable to change.

He hums a reply, not seizing her change in tone, all while refusing to take his eyes off the screen. It's when she doesn't respond that catches him off guard. Slowly, he pulls his focus from his rose gold device and meets her surprised eyes through the mirror. “What’s the matter then?”

She doesn't utter another word, though Harry's confusion comes to a halt relatively quick when he discerns a small clump of hair - which with no doubt is his - entangled in the bristles of her neon pink hairbrush.

“Is that - “ his voice raises in octave before completely catching in his throat. As quickly as he can manage, he presses his phone between his thighs before leaning forward to examine the top of his head. “Fucking hell, how did you manage that?” he asks, trying to remain as calm as possible, upon seeing the small bald spot on the right side of his scalp.

Harry doesn't get angry often. He hates the way his face becomes overheated and the way his hands tremble. For him, anger doesn't come in small spurts, rather when he's angry it's a huge ordeal, sometimes taking him hours to wind down from the chilling high it leaves him with.

That’s not to say he's angry in this particular moment. He isn't. Confusion, worry, disappointment, even distress work as a sufficient descriptors for the emotion he feels in this exact moment.

His fingertips skim the hairless patch, which is no larger than the size of a small coin, but still noticeable. He flinches at the texture as it slides beneath his fingertips  “Oh my fucking God, Lou.” he whispers, heart clenching and stomach twisting.

Sure, losing a bit of hair isn't a  _ huge _ deal, after all it should grow back after a few weeks, but for Harry it's like the world is crumbling before his very own eyes. His hair is one of his most admirable features, the one he's most famous for, one he prides himself in, and for it to be anything less than perfect is not acceptable.

“I didn’t even pull, honest to God Harry.” she rushes to say, waving the brush in the air, “There was no give to it, it literally fell out.”

Harry can’t find the words to form a coherent sentence. “I... _ my hair _ , oh God I’m going to be sick.”

“I can fix it, let me see, I’ll fix it.” she encourages, swatting his hands away from the bare area. Carefully, she's able to cover the spot quite easily by styling his hair a certain way. “Look at that, you can’t even notice, and it’ll grow back before you know it.”

He glances into the mirror again, and despite feeling a bit better about the situation, he can't help but focus on the feeling of despair that has settled in the pit of his stomach. 

 

 

 

  
  
Unfortunately, he should have initially been concerned.

A week goes by before he notices the bald spot again - this time passing a bathroom mirror - but upon seeing it he can immediately tell it's doubled in size. He and the lads were making jokes about his new “hairstyle” just several days ago, but it doesn't seem to be nearly as funny.

Again, he bends at the waist, fingers brushing against the area. It's hardly covered in stubble as it had been when Lou first pulled it out.

_ That's strange _ , he can't help but think to himself, yet he still tries to leave the thought at that, assuming perhaps the beanie he's been wearing has been rubbing away some more of his hair.

 

 

 

 

By the time another week has passed, another bald spot has appeared on his head. This one nears the front of his scalp, and is by far noticeable. The first bald spot has since tripled in size.

As he takes a look in the mirror, he can’t help but wonder if his eyebrows look thinner or if it’s his mind manipulating his perception. He braces himself on the bathroom counter as he observes his appearance in the large reflective surface. Now, that he’s nitpicking details, he realizes he hasn’t shaved in the previous weeks, yet there’s hardly any stubble decorating his chin and cheeks.

A knock at the bathroom door causes him a great deal of grief as he jerks back in surprise. “H, love? I need to use the loo, can you unlock the door?” a voice asks, which obviously belongs to his longtime boyfriend. No one he knows of can match the sweet octave or gentle tone Louis’ voice carries.

He quickly responds with, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, one second, I just got out of the shower.” How is he supposed to hide this from Louis? Hell, how is he supposed to keep this from anyone?

It’s far too obvious, and honestly, he isn’t sure why his hair is falling out at an alarming rate. He’s only twenty two years old for Christ’s sake. When he joked about losing his hair first out of his band mates he didn't mean like this, not this soon in his life.

In a matter of two weeks his appearance has changed so quickly. Running his hand through his hair now, he can feel how fine the follicles feel between the webbing of his fingers.

That's not right. His hair has always been thick, from the time he was an infant his hair has always been well groomed. Even when he was a toe head, bleach blonde hair before he had grown into his brunet waves, he had a full head of hair.

Though, he doesn't know a thing about panic until he withdraws his hand from his hair and finds strands entangled around his fingers.

He nearly screams, but a choked gasp takes its place instead.

“Harry?” Louis asks, weariness in his voice, “What’s the matter? Did you get soap in your eyes again?” He’s just woken up from a good night’s sleep, judging from his tone, and is probably still trying to gather his bearings. Louis doesn't need this right now.

Harry can’t stop staring at his hand, and next thing he knows his hand is a blurred image of flesh colored hues and tears are creeping down his cheeks and dribbling down the front of his henley shirt. 

What’s wrong with him? Why is his hair falling out?

His chest is tight, and suddenly, he feels like he can't breathe. It doesn't make sense, why the fuck doesn't it make sense? He should not be losing his hair, not like this. Running his fucking fingers through his hair - as he does often, a nervous habit - should not result in his hair falling out.

Louis sounds worried, knocking a bit rampantly at the oak door. “Are you okay, love? Don't tell me you're feeling poorly again.”

_ Get yourself together, Styles, it isn't as big a deal as you're making it out to be. _ Clearing his throat before speaking, he responds, “I’m fine, almost fell over is all. You know how clumsy I am.”

“Well move your butt along then, I’ve got to wee.” Louis practically whines, and Harry can imagine him doing a little side to side waddle, only to be melodramatic of course.

He has to think fast. If the hair loss isn't a big deal, then there's no reason for him to bring it to Louis’ attention. It may be stressed induced, considering promotion for the new album picks up soon and tour follows a mere six weeks later. Any  _ normal _ person should feel stressed as it is a lot of pressure.

His eyes catch on a faded blue towel, and quickly, he snatches it up, before pulling his long hair up into it. He checks once, twice, three times to make sure it isn't loose, then walks out of the bathroom,  _ almost _ past Louis, but the older boy grabs him by his forearm. “Didn't you wear that to bed last night?” he asks, observing Harry’s cozy attire.

“No sense in making more laundry.” Harry says, nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. As Harry looks into Louis’ perilous baby blue eyes, he realizes he should have, one, at least turned the shower on, and two, gotten himself a bit wet to make his story believable.

Thankfully, Louis doesn't say anything else, stepping back and releasing his wrist with a small, subdued nod. He disappears into the bathroom, and Harry figures he has about ten minutes before his boyfriend finishes his morning routine.

He chooses to wear a beanie, as it's proven to be safe up until this point, and the hair loss is affecting only his scalp thus far, so it isn't noticeable anywhere else. If he gives everything a bit of time, it's bound to clear itself up, right? He shouldn't be worried. There isn't any reason to worry.

 

 

 

 

"Harry?" Louis asks as the sound of the front door slamming fills his ears. It's followed by a set of footsteps trudging across the wooden flooring. "H, you home?" 

Harry keeps his head down, holding the beanie to his head with one hand as he quickly walks past, disregarding Louis completely. "Harry?" Louis asks, again, this time standing up in attempt to gain his attention. 

The curly-headed lad is soaking wet, rain droplets dripping off every possible area they can, and leaves a trail of muddy footprints behind him. "Not now, Louis."

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, concern laced in his tone as he trails after his frantic boyfriend. "Harry! Are you okay? Babe, what happened?" 

Harry doesn't even turn to face him, let alone stop to answer him, rather once he reaches their bedroom, he shuts the door and locks it behind him, so Louis' incapable of making entry. As soon as he's in the bedroom, he yanks the beanie off his head, feeling his head for the new bald spot that's supposedly set at the nape of his neck. The  _ lovely _ waitress at the cafe had no trouble rudely pointing it out to him, and he didn't give it a second thought as he rushed out of the casual dining spot to see for himself.

He had been with his friends, his older, more mature and experienced friends. Needlessly said, they all appeared to be extremely bewildered upon Harry slapping his hand to cover up the presumably noticeable spot and taking no time at all to swiftly excuse himself. He stated a simple apology, then shoved his way through the throngs of patrons crowded at tables around them to the exit.  

Harry doesn't know that he's ever felt as embarrassed as he currently does. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, and he only feels fainter as a continuous ringtone buzzes against his thigh. He knows it's his friends, but what is he supposed to say to them? What  _ good _ excuse does he have for running away from their lunch meeting like a small, frivolous child? 

"Fuck, oh my God." he mumbles to himself as soon as the pads of his fingers come into contact with the bare area. His cloth hat should have covered it, why didn't his hat cover it? "No, please no. Fuck." Tears are making their way to the surface, yet again, and he isn't able to stop them this time. He covers his face with the palm of his hand as he stifles a cry that has settled deep within him.

He can't allow Louis to hear him, but little does he know he's already in the process of putting a strain on his relationship with Louis.

Louis started to become suspicious about a week or so ago, and since then, Harry's way of acting so secretive has not helped his skepticism in the slightest. For one, he stopped sleeping in the same bed as Louis, pretending he had late night writing sessions to participate in, and he also has been making sure to wake up before him, both in the fear of Louis seeing what has been happening with his physical appearance. 

Harry's cries, while they may be somewhat muted in sound, still travel outside the four walls of the room. Louis has head pressed to the oak as he leans against the door, trying his hardest to remain calm and not overstep himself. He doesn't know what to do, shutting his eyes as he absorbs the vigor behind his boyfriend's sniffles and choked whimpers. "Love, will you please tell me what's going on?" 

Harry wipes underneath his eyes, sniffing. "Nothing's wrong, I'm fine." 

" _ Harry _ ." Louis stresses.

"I said I'm fine." Harry huffs, becoming agitated almost instantly, "Just leave me alone Louis." 

And so Louis does, deciding it's better to let the situation unfold as it will naturally rather than forcing it to. 

 

 

 

 

It takes another week for the situation to come to a boiling point.

Harry walks into the kitchen, not expecting to find Louis with his back to the entrance and hands clenching the side of counter. “Are you okay?” he asks, cautiously, as he strides closer to his lover. His hand settles on the small of Louis’ back for what might consist of a millisecond before the older boy tears away from the contact, sighing heavily. “Lou?” Harry questions, not quite understanding what's happening before him.

This is odd. While things have been a bit awkward between the two of them for the last seven days, Louis has never been one to deny sensual contact, let alone sensual contact coming from the likes of Harry. 

Louis still hasn't turned to face him, rather his focus is pinpointed on a particular tree drastically swaying outside, just beyond their pool recently closed for the season. It's a dreary, windy day, which ironically suits the mood of the interaction happening between the two of them. “What's going on Harry?” His tone isn't airy, instead heavy and miserable. Strain has settled in it, as if he's going to start crying any moment. "You're not being honest with me, and I can hardly stand it."

“I don't think I understand what you mean.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest in defense, as he ponders Louis’ question. While he's trying to hold his ground one of his many nervous habits, this one having to do with clearing his throat, makes a blatant appearance, thus destroying his facade in mere seconds.

Louis knows him too well to not know his nervous habits, and with this behavior he turns around, face pulled taut in a very serious matter, “I meant what I asked, what's going on with you? You've been walking around so secretive for a month now, and I want to have a mature conversation about it. If we don’t have good communication, we don’t have a good relationship.”

“Nothings wrong, I'm fine.” Harry replies, dropping his focus to the floor without even realizing it. "I don't have anything to say, so I would really appreciate it if you would just drop it." 

“Harry,” Louis sighs, rubbing his chin with his palm, “I know something's wrong. You haven't acted like yourself in weeks. Does it have to do with me? Are you mad at me?”

Instantly, a spark of worry shoots through Harry’s entirety and a flood of reassurances leave his mouth before he has the chance to process them, “No, it's not you, it's definitely not you.”

“Then what is it? You're sneaking around the house like you're hiding something from me, and if you have been, whatever, I’m not upset, it's not important right now. I just want to,  _ I need to _ , know you're okay.”

Harry sighs. He doesn't really have a choice now does he? It's not like anything has improved, as he hoped it would, in fact everything has grown to become worse. The fact of the matter is the secrecy and false hope is not worth his relationship with Louis suffering and it should have been addressed long before now. 

Now Louis is worried, and rightfully so. They haven’t had sex in over a month, they haven't been communicating, they haven't participated in the others life in the slightest, and it sounds as though Louis has the assumption that he's been having an affair of some sort.

“Uh you know, you're right, I haven't been entirely honest with you.” Harry admits, unfolding his arms and slipping his hands down into his sweatpants pockets. There's a hole in one of the pockets, so his fingers slips through the lining and brush against his semi-bare thigh. The sensation sends shivers up his spine because there should be a lot of hair in place of rough skin.

Louis can't help but shake his head, allowing a forced, breathless laugh to leave him. “I'm well aware. I’m just worried is all.”

Harry doesn't see another option. “Do you promise you won't freak out when I show you?” he asks.

The look of uncertainty that passes across Louis’ features is almost pitiful. “Show me what?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out.” Harry reiterates, staring directly into Louis’ eyes.

“I...I suppose I don’t really have any other choice, so, yes I promise.” He isn’t sure what to expect, therefore he takes a step back, so his backside presses to the counter and he has something to catch himself on if what Harry shows him turns out to be significant.  

When Harry’s hand starts inching towards the hat on his head, Louis breath catches in his throat. What is he going to show him? It can’t possibly be so bad that it’s caused such a strain on their relationship in the past month.

Though Harry’s actions don’t halt, and slowly, he pulls the navy colored beanie off his head. It takes everything in Louis to not gasp when Harry reveals what he’s been hiding, a scattering of fairly large bald spots. The crown of his head is nearly completely bald, and his hair looks ridiculously delicate, which doesn’t make much sense.

Harry knows it's worse than it had been just last week. The original bald spots he had have again tripled in size and now a handful more have popped up.

Harry’s jaw locks as he stares at Louis. He looks like he's going to be sick with his current appearance, a pale complexion and wide eyes decorating his face. There isn't more than a moment of hesitance between the reveal and Louis making his way over to Harry. “Harry, what the hell happened to your hair? I thought Lou only pulled out a bit. It should have grown back.” He says, examining the areas of hair loss.

“It’s been falling out for over a month now, and my eyebrows too, see?” he asks, dragging his pointer finger along the length of his left eyebrow to draw attention to it. A thick swallow entails, “I don't know why this is happening.”

Louis shakes his head, and despite carefully picking at Harry’s hair, strands of it still fall out into his hand. His stomach clenches as he stares at the strands of curly brown hair now sitting in the palm of his hand. “Oh my God, this could be serious Harry, why didn't you tell me? What if you're sick? Why wouldn't you tell me about something so serious?” Harry can't help but flinch at Louis’ tone because he sounds so scared. “Is it falling out anywhere else besides your head?”

Harry nods.

“Where, baby?” Louis grabs his hands, tightly squeezing both of them. "You can tell me, I need to know."

“Everywhere. It...fucking everywhere, my legs, my arms, my fucking pubic hair is falling out.” Harry breathes out, chest heaving, and tears begin to form in his eyes. “And I...I really don't know what to do, Louis. I was going to tell you before now, I was, but I thought it was going to get better, and it hasn’t. I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m not mad, not even a little bit.” Louis appears to be teary-eyed, but Harry can tell he's trying to stay collected. It's hard for him to stay calm in this situation, though if he's not Harry certainly won't be and someone needs to be. “I’m going to call the doctor’s office, make you an appointment, and we’ll go from there. We’re going to figure it out, alright? Don’t worry.” He pulls him closer, hugging the younger boy tight. "Everything's going to be alright, I promise you that much."

 

 

 

 

"Based on the pattern of your hair loss, I'm certain you have Alopecia." Dr. Dorsen says, taking a seat across from Louis and Harry. She holds a clipboard in one hand and adjusts her glasses with the other. 

It doesn't take the doctor's office long to schedule Harry for an appointment, as they're immediately worried the hair loss could be a sign of a multitude of severe diseases, but it takes the doctor even less time to diagnose Harry. After asking him a few questions, and looking at his hair for herself, she's quick to come to a conclusion, which includes a diagnosis. 

“Alopecia?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes at the doctor. He studies her closely as if judging her ulterior motive, as if there truly is one. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It's an autoimmune disorder which as you can see attacks the hair follicles,” Dr. Dorsen explains, sitting down on the stool across from Harry. “From what I’ve gathered you have Alopecia Universalis, a more advanced and aggressive form of Alopecia Areata.”

Her explanation is a jumble of big, intelligent words that Harry truly has a hard time understanding, and so he has to ask for even more clarity. He glances at Louis who is far too inclined with the doctor to pay him any attention. Although he does continue to make his presence known, squeezing Harry’s thigh as protectively as he can. “What does that mean?” Harry asks, demanding a more definite explanation.

“It means, Harry, you're most likely going to lose all the hair on your body. At the rate you’re going, it'll be two or three months before you experience total hair loss,” she explains, trying to sound as hopeful as possible, “but the good news is it's not contagious, and it's not debilitating in any way. In fact, your daily life won't be affected at all by it.”

Despite her being conscientious as she lists off all this information, it becomes drowned out by the the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. All of his hair on his body is going to fall out, and he’s going to be so strange looking. He isn’t sure if Louis will still like him, let alone love him.

He’s never even heard of Alopecia before this point in his life. It can’t possibly be a real thing. It makes no sense for his fucking hair to fall out at twenty two years old.

Without even realizing it, he runs his fingers through his hair, and unsurprisingly pulls out a clump of curly brown hair. He feels sick. His hair is all going to fall out, just like this, and now it’s merely a waiting game. A game to see how long it will take for all of his hair to fall out, a game to see how long it takes Louis to leave him after he’s completely bald, a game to see how long it takes anyone with a single form of social media to taunt him over his new “look”.

“Harry, sweetheart,” Louis whispers, touching his face with a gentle hand, which pulls him out of the depreciating trance he’s been stuck in, “Did you hear what the doctor just said?” He’s careful as he brushes a strand of Harry’s thin hair off of his face.

Harry shakes his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he thickly swallows. By the time he finds his focus again, Dr. Dorsen is not longer present, and it’s only the two of them in the doctor’s office.

“She said there’s a chance it’ll all grow back, isn’t that great?” he asks, trying his hardest to fake a smile. Harry can tell by the lack of smiles lines around his lips and the nonexistent crows feet by the corners of his eyes, he isn’t genuinely happy.

It’s not like Harry means to get so emotional over this. It could be something worse, but he’s still losing part of his identity. Tears burn at the back of his eyes before he even has the opportunity to process it, then his body is lurching forward with a choked sob. “I’m going to lose all my fucking hair, how is that okay?”

“C’mere love, it’s gonna be alright.” Louis pulls Harry into an embrace, cooing, “It’s hair, baby, it doesn’t matter how much or how little you have, you’re still my Harry and I’ll always love you.”

Harry has snot coming out of places he didn’t even know snot could come out of. The back of his throat is sore, burning with raw sensation. “I want it all gone then. I can’t deal with watching myself go fucking bald. I don't deserve this Louis, nobody deserves this."

“If that’s what you want then that’s what we’ll do. We’re going to make it through this, you hear me? Who gives a shit if you don’t have any hair? I certainly don’t, you’ll still be the love of my life.”

He rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “You heard her Louis, no eyebrows, no fucking eyelashes, how is that going to look okay?”

“You want to know how?” Louis asks, pulling away from Harry before continuing. He cups his chin in his hand, lifting his head up so he can get a better look at him. “Your gorgeous eyes, your lips, your jawline, and everything else that makes you so beautiful will make you look just darling as always, I promise you that. It's not the end of the world, you hear me? It's gonna be okay." He takes his thumbs and wipes the tears out from under Harry's eyes. "I'll be here with you every step of the way, whether you decide to shave it all off, or if you want to let it happen naturally. I'll always be here for you."  
  


 

 

 

It’s a little less than two months later that Harry’s finally lost all of his hair.

The final bit of hair is on his pillowcase when he wakes one morning, and that’s it, it's all gone. Considering his eyebrows, eyelashes, and every other little strand of hair has already fallen out nothing is left to show for it. Over the last two months, it fell out so freely, in the shower - disappearing down the drain before Harry even had the chance to realize - onto his clothes, onto all of their furniture, onto Louis' lap when he laid his head there for a nap, anywhere it could go, it did. There was no stopping the cycle, which both Harry and Louis came to realize after seeking a second and third opinion from specialists.

Harry makes the mistake of glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror while passing to use the loo, and as a result, realizes he hardly recognizes himself. Just three months ago he had a head full of shoulder length hair, thick eyebrows, elegant eyelashes, and now what does he have?

Nothing. He has nothing to compliment his green eyes and pasty skin.

Louis finds him sobbing on the bathroom floor when he goes to take a shower fifteen minutes later, and doesn’t say a word as he gets on the floor beside him and wraps him up tight in a cuddle. “It’s alright babe. I love you, don’t cry.”

His voice is cracking as he speaks, heart obviously breaking further as he rocks his whimpering twenty two year old boyfriend, in effort to calm him down.

Harry cries against his neck, soaking his t-shirt with tears. “I thought it would stop fucking falling out, I thought I had a chance, and now it’s all gone. It's all fucking gone.”

“I know baby, but you look so gorgeous. You’re always so pretty, even without hair.” he tries to encourage, quite frankly not knowing what else he can say to resolve the situation. No matter what he does, Harry’s hair is gone and the likelihood of it restoring to what it was before is virtually impossible.

Somehow he manages to get Harry to relax - after twenty minutes of consoling him and assuring him that he’ll always be worth so much in his eyes - and he stands him up, rubbing his arms, up and down with ease. “Are you gonna be alright?"

It doesn’t and hasn’t bothered Louis that Harry has Alopecia because honestly why does he give a fuck what Harry looks like? What’s really bothering him is the hit to Harry’s self esteem as it’s probably one of the worst struggles he’s ever witnessed someone go through.

Harry nods, wiping at the dried tears decorating his cheeks as he stares down at Louis.

"You're sure? Because if you're not, you need to let me know." Louis whispers, squeezing his arms, and keeps his eyes on Harry's beautiful green ones. It's been a rather subtle change, but Louis can't help but notice how Harry lets his head hang down, purposely avoiding eye contact, as if ashamed of his looks. He can't stand it. Harry is worth so much more than a few locks of curly brown hair, and he wishes he would see it as easily as he does.

Again, Harry nods.

“I’m glad you're okay love.” he whispers, sincerely, and stands on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Harry’s sweet, luscious lips. “I’ll make you a cup of tea and you're going to take it easy for the rest of the day, how’s that sound?”

Harry smiles what may be the weakest smile Louis has ever seen. “Thanks." he strains to say.

Louis touches his cheek, caresses his cheekbone for a moment, then steps away, allowing Harry to have a moment to himself.

 

 

 

  
  
How they forgot to mention that Harry lost all his hair to their three best friends is beyond Louis.

Two months managed to pass them by faster than they initially realized. The last time they saw their band mates was the day they hopped off the plane at Heathrow airport after the last leg of the previous tour came to an end.

Obviously it comes to a surprise to the lads when Harry strolls into rehearsals, a black beanie pulled snugly over his ears and not a trace of hair to be seen, anywhere. At first glance, it seems Harry altered his appearance with a haircut, but as the boys move closer to exchange hugs and greetings, his lack of facial stubble, eyebrows, and eyelashes become more evident.

Harry made the decision to not publicly share his disorder which is causing him his newfound baldness, instead he's been staying away from the paparazzi and fans over the last couple months.

The boys all stare at him, failing to hide their apprehension.

Zayn stands closest to him, his eyebrows furrowed. Right as he opens his mouth to speak, Harry interrupts, choosing to explain himself before one of the lads slips up and makes the situation excruciatingly uncomfortable. “Before anyone says anything, I'm going to come right out with it. All my hair fell out and it probably isn't going to grow back anytime soon.” he says, straightforward. A slight tremor in his voice guides Louis to place a protective hand on the center of his back.

The only thing anyone can manage to ask comes from none other than the blond Irishman himself. “But how did that happen? It’s only been a few months since we saw you last, pet.” Niall has always had a special sort of relationship with Harry. It's never been anything too serious, nothing more than platonic love, but the two of them have always been honest about their lives and certain scenarios they get caught up in.

“I've got this thing called Alopecia, and it caused it all to fall out.” he says, swallowing as he thinks about it and how horrific he must appear. He must be so grotesque to look at, perhaps he should apologize for his appearance. "I don't know what else to say about it because well, I still don't know much about it, if I'm being honest."

Liam wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders, tugging him against his side in a very protective way. "Well I think you look marvelous." 

Fortunately, Louis is lucky enough to catch both the blush and grin crossing Harry's face after Liam compliments him. 

No one mentions it again, so they go on with rehearsals. Harry's still the same man, perhaps a few pounds lighter with that mop of hair vanished, but he's still one of their best mates and nothing will ever change that. 

The media has an absolute frenzy later in the day, after the lot of them are dismissed from rehearsals and paparazzi get a large variety of photos of the group leaving the premises. At first, Harry isn't mentioned in the slightest - partially because no one recognizes him at first - and then, all of a sudden, titles are being spewed out like there's no tomorrow.

Social media blows up with both supportive and crude comments coming from fans and celebrity bloggers, but Louis refuses to let Harry see them, turning off the WiFi router and acting dumb when Harry complains about not being able to send messages or check his social media.

Unfortunately Louis’ strenuous efforts come to an end hours later. While in the kitchen, preparing dinner, he hears a mention of Harry’s name come blasting through the television system in the living space.

He shuts his eyes, waiting for some kind of crying noise to come out of the room, but what he hears instead is... _ nothing _ . Not a sound comes out of Harry, in fact the television is shut off seconds after.

Walking into the living room, he isn't sure what to expect, but it certainly isn't Harry sitting there, silent, a blank expression spanned across his face. “Harry?” he asks, slow to approach his boyfriend. “Babe, you alright?”

Harry’s body absorbs a heavy sigh, then a forced laugh leaves him, “They act like my appearance is an inconvenience to them.”

“I think you look fine.” Louis offers, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “Fuck what everyone else says, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Am I really, Louis?” Harry asks, turning his head to face him. Their eyes meet. “I just...I feel so stupid, you know? It shouldn't be a big deal, but it bothers me so much. Why do you love such a vain man?”

Louis shakes his head, rubbing his chin as he contemplates this question. It isn't that he loves a  _ vain  _ man, he loves Harry, and whether he be vain or not is a quality, not a descriptor. “It's not stupid. I can't say I understand exactly, but it's somewhat traumatic love. I mean you lost all your hair, if you weren't upset, well I’d be a bit nervous.”

“I hate that I’m angry about it. It’s _hair._ Like you said, it doesn't matter.” Harry huffs, sounding quite aggravated with himself. Louis figures it's a lose-lose situation. If Harry wasn't upset, it would be an issue, he would be worried and since he is upset it’s still an issue as Harry can be quite unpredictable.

“It does matter, as much as anything else does, so don’t put yourself down, H. I’m here for you, and I’ll always be here for you, so please talk to me about this, all of this.” he touches Harry’s bare cheek, brushing his thumb along his boyfriend’s chiseled cheekbone.

Harry glances down at his lap, and if he still had his hair, his eyelashes would flutter downwards and his eyebrows would furrow in a distressed matter. “I just don’t think I can, God never mind, I don’t know.” he mutters.

“Yes you do, what can’t you do?” Louis asks, sitting forward. His hand falls from Harry’s cheek and moves to rest on the center of his back.

Harry sighs, a breathless, weak sigh, one Louis can feel sprout from the roots of his diaphragm upward. “I don’t think I can continue on with One Direction.”

Is Louis hearing what he thinks he’s hearing? That can’t be possible. One Direction is their life, and they agreed they've both agreed, on multiple occasions, they wouldn't trade it for the world. “Okay.” he says, unsure, willing to hear Harry out.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you lot to continue on with it because I do. My decision shouldn’t impact your futures, it’s just - I need some time to figure everything out, to deal with all the attention.” There’s a lump in Harry’s throat, and his voice keeps breaking. If he doesn’t cry, Louis will be extremely surprised.

“The hate is coming from uneducated pricks, Harry. There’s nothing wrong with your appearance. But they’ve turned it into something bigger than it needs to be because they’re sad, sad people with nothing better to do and if you leave the band, you’re letting them win.”

The first tear slides down his rosy cheeks despite his efforts to blink it away. “It isn’t about anyone winning, alright? I just - I can’t continue on with it. I need to catch a fucking break, and even if I didn’t look like some kind of fucking  _ I don't know _ alien they would start on something else, and I can’t subject myself to that, you understand don’t you? They're already always making comments about me for wearing the clothes I like and nail polish and now I have no hair, and they're going to run it into the ground. ”

“I understand completely baby, but what are we supposed to do without you? What am  _ I _ supposed to do without you? You  _ are _ One Direction. You're the one that brings all our fans coming back for more and more. We’re not One Direction without you.” Louis points out, watching as more and more tears begin to drip down Harry’s flushed face. "You make so many people  _ happy _ , you can get them to smile on their worst days, and believe me, it wasn't your hair doing that." 

Harry tries to use his sleeve to wipe away the tears as they come, though his nose becomes terribly runny, and he then has to multi-task to keep from making a mess. He’s always been a relatively silent crier, but never a clean one.

“Love, I’m going to be honest with you for a second, alright?” Louis asks, hand creating patterns against the material of Harry’s shirt as he rubs his back. If he still had his unruly long hair, he’d be brushing it out of his eyes. “You’re going through a very hard time, and I’m sorry I can’t be more help. I’m trying my hardest, but I know now that there’s only so much I can do about it, and as hard as it is for me to be okay with, I have to be.” he hesitates before saying his next point, “I don’t think you should leave the band, not even for a break because this has been our life for six years and it’s a beautiful thing. Don’t give up so easily, baby, give it some time, and you’ll learn to accept it.”

Harry turns his head to look at Louis. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” he moves in closer, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. “It’s like with anything else, you have to give it time, then you’ll be okay, trust me. Besides, who else am I supposed to cuddle up with on the tour bus?”

A slight smile spans across Harry's lips which then builds up to a chuckle. “I’ll do it for you then.” he kisses Louis’ lips, ever so gently, but the older boy withdraws before he’s able to continue.

“No, I want you to do it for yourself. You deserve it, and don’t you ever believe differently.”

They pull away from one another, sharing a longing look, then Louis stands, glancing towards the television. “I’ve got to finish dinner, but before I get to it, do me a favor and don't turn that bullshit back on. The news never has anything nice to say, and this house is going to be filled with positivity from here on out.”

Harry cracks another smile, and while it may be a weak one, it’s something, a starting point, and Louis will take something over nothing. He strolls back into the kitchen to continue dinner, but once stood at the counter, he draws in a sharp breath.

It’s going to be difficult these next few weeks, perhaps even months, to make Harry as comfortable with himself as he had been, but with his support and unconditional love he’s going to get Harry through it. 

After all, Harry's done so much for him, he deserves it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the constant support ( and kudos, hits, bookmarks, recs, comments, all that jazz). feel free to give me a follow on twitter @terrestrialhaz (we can be super cool mutuals!) Have a great day/night! Huge love and cheers. Emily.x


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